


More Screams Than Anyone Could Ever Count

by Es_Aitch



Series: Twelfth Doctor One Shots  Series 9 [4]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Es_Aitch/pseuds/Es_Aitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had counted, of course he had.  But he wasn't the only one.  </p><p>Spoilers for “Zygon Inversion”.  My typical ‘what happens after’ story.  Heavy on introspection.  Given how much the Doctor talked in the episode, I’m not apologising.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Screams Than Anyone Could Ever Count

The Doctor sent the TARDIS into the Time Vortex and then left the main level of the Console Room. He needed space from Clara. Her accusation about ‘five minutes’ had broken him in a very strange way. He was already vulnerable from everything that had happened in the Black Vault and her comment just pushed him over some edge he didn’t know existed.

Sure he had said it had happened fifteen previous times. But the only person who knew the truth had been Osgood and he knew she wouldn’t tell anyone he was lying. He needed that one lie. It made it easier somehow. And it was more for Bonnie’s benefit than Kate’s. He hoped it would leave her with the uneasy feeling that he had to go through those emotional upheavals sixteen times. And maybe that edge of guilt would be enough for her to get a sense of compassion.

Still, he needed to decompress after that experience. It had been too much. He wasn’t used to emoting that much in this body. And he was tired. More so than he had been in a long time. So he needed respite. But like he had told Bonnie: kids throwing tantrums never knew what they really wanted and right now, he was no different. He wanted to be left alone, but he didn’t want to be alone. Meaning he didn’t want to deal with a lot of questions and even more emoting. But he didn’t want to be left to his own devices either.

Rather than trying to find a way to escape, he made his way to this ‘thinking chair.’ Over the course of time since his regeneration, Clara had learned it was best to not bother him when he was sat there. He hoped this time would be no different. He didn’t have the energy for a visit to a planet right now. He didn’t even have the energy to make it to his bedroom. He barely had the energy to make it this far.

He should have known he was out of luck. She would never let him have his respite given all she had just seen and heard. It was a matter of when she would approach him and how much she’d press when she did. Because that’s what Clara did. And he could never deny her. Even when he wanted to, or more to the point today, _needed_ to.

Yes, he wanted to be left alone. He didn’t want to be confronted with these feelings again for a good long while. But he didn’t want to be left to fend for himself. Oh, the irony, hadn’t he told Bonnie that everyone was left to fend for themselves? He really needed to stop thinking. This was doing him no good at all.

Clara wanted the Doctor to check her over and make sure she was okay; like he had after she and been in the Dalek. But he was more wrapped up in his grief than he was in concern for her well-being. After all, she had been the one stuck in a Zygon pod. But she supposed, the difference between that and the issue with the Dalek was that the Zygons didn’t actually do anything to the people in the pods.

So, she redirected her own focus back on the Doctor. She had gotten better at knowing when this Doctor could be pushed and when he couldn’t be. She left him alone for a full ten minutes: watching him from one of the chairs around the lower level of the console room. Finally, she had enough. She was not going to let him do this to himself.

She went to the upper level by way of the stairs on the farthest side from the Doctor. She made her way around the rim. Along the way, she found a stool on rollers that she pulled along with her. When she got to where the Doctor was sat, she put the stool not quite in front of him, but in his line-of-sight. Then she sat there and waited.

The Doctor had one hand covering his face. So while he could clearly hear Clara moving around, his eyes were closed and he did not see her. He could certainly sense her presence. It should have brought him comfort, but right now, with as raw as he was feeling…

Well, he could sense her body heat. There was such a vast difference from her 37℃ and his 15℃. She was like a furnace. He could tell the minute she was sat near him because it was like sitting near a roaring fire. The intense heat was doing little to improve his mood or how he was feeling physically.

He remained still, his hand still covering his face. He hoped if he remained like that, maybe she would get the point and leave him alone. Still, she was being silent, so that was something. Except humans are never really silent. He could very nearly hear her blood pumping through her veins. The blood that was her life-force. That driving rhythm that stoked the furnace of heat that was now sitting far too close to him.

And now he felt sick. The heat and the blood and the pound, pound, _pound_! And he just wanted it all to end. He wanted to break properly. Like he had so very long ago now.

He never really talked about it. But he could remember both timelines: The one where he had used _The Moment_ and the one where he hadn’t. And right now? He remembered what it was like, returning to consciousness. Discovering he was alive when he hadn’t expected to be. He lived on, while all the rest of them were dead. He had lain there on the console room floor for he didn’t know how long. He was aware of being alive, but he wanted nothing more than to join them in death.

No matter how often he said: ‘No more’, ‘never again’, and ‘no one else,’ people could never read between the lines. Just once he wanted someone to advocate that so he didn’t have to. It was the same with how willing he was to offer Bonnie – or any creature who was throwing a tantrum of ‘unforgivable’ – his total and complete forgiveness. No one had ever offered that to him. And it was the one thing he could never ask for.

And that’s when it happened. A sound escaped him. It was part hiccup, part shuddering sigh, part the pain he was desperate to cling to. It was the beginning of tears.

He had allowed Clara to see so much more of himself than any other companion. Even in this body. But this one thing, he could not – would not – show her. He stood suddenly and tried to move past her. “Clara, get out of my way.”

His voice was raw, maybe from his earlier shouting. More likely from the tears that he was desperately trying to hold in.

Clara didn’t make way for him, but stood when he did. She put her hands on his shoulders and tried to encourage him back into his chair. “No, Doctor, you need to sit.”

In that moment, the Doctor converted all his pain and anguish into raw fury. He put his hands on top of Clara’s and forced her to release him. He spun them so that his back was to the staircase and Clara’s back was to the wall. He screamed in her face, “I’M THE DOCTOR, NOT YOU!”

He was panting. He hadn’t expected to explode like that. Or maybe he had. He doesn’t know. Kid throwing a temper-tantrum. That’s what he was right now. ‘Hell’ is about the only way to describe it.

He backed his way down the stairs. He could see a hint of fear in the way Clara stood and the tears as they slowly tracked their way down her cheeks. Once he got to the main level of the console room, he turned and ran. He didn’t know where he was going, but he wanted to stay on the TARDIS. He ran and took sharp turns. Thank goodness for the acres of room.

He ran and ran. Suddenly, ahead of him was a door. It was a room he thought had been jettisoned ages ago. The TARDIS had clearly decided that enough was enough. He saw a glass of water near the entrance, which he picked up and drank. She always cared for him. Even when he didn’t want to care for himself. Then he entered the room.

It was the Gallifreyan Gardens: red grass, trees covered with silver leaves, the twin suns beating down on him. He ran again. Mostly to get away from the entrance. Then he fell to his knees, because he couldn’t go any further. Finally the rest of his body gave in and he collapsed onto the grass. He gripped tufts of the red grass into his hands. He didn’t pull it out, but just held on so tight it would leave impressions on his hands. He didn’t want to give in to his pain and grief. There was no telling where that would lead when he was alone.

“ _But you are not alone. You have me. You have always had me_.”

The Doctor only screamed. It was blood curdling. The TARDIS recognised it. It was the same sound he made when they had used _The Moment_. It was the sound, that not only echoed the cries of those burning, but from the pain of feeling them being ripped from his mind. It was a pain she knew well. It was one that she had experienced as her own planet had been destroyed as well.

When his scream finally subsided, he hoarsely spoke, “Go away.”

“ _I cannot do that, my Doctor_.”

She created a hard light hologram of herself. It was no one he had ever seen before. She had short dark hair, nearly black. It was cut similar to his. She even had similar curls. All of her garments were a cream colour: trousers, shoes, socks, top, and jacket. Her face was kindly and makeup free.

She approached slowly and rested a hand on his shoulder. He screamed again, but didn’t shake her away. She accepted it. It was the least she could do. She knew he wasn’t angry with her. Even when he would hit her console, she knew he was never truly angry with her.

She let him be. She said nothing; just let him beat the ground when he needed to. She gently rubbed his back. It was not much, but he didn’t wiggle away from her. And then she heard it – that broken hiccup that signalled he was close to tears.

Well. She would give him something to cry about or at the very least a reason to release his tears. She spoke softly, but with confidence. “Doctor, sit up. Please, I want you to look at me when I say this to you.”

The Doctor vaguely recognised the voice, though he had never heard this one before. He couldn’t refuse her. She was right; she had been with him since the beginning. He slowly sat up and focused on her. Not on the tiny bit of Gallifrey that remained that surrounded them. He focused only on her.

He tried to offer a brave smile, but it quickly crumpled. She held out her hands and cupped his face between them. She waited a moment until he calmed down. “Doctor, I know your thoughts. I know the burden you carry. I know your failures and your successes. I know the hatred you hold for yourself. And within all of that, I forgive you.”

She nodded her head once, with certainty. “I. Forgive. _You_.”

He let his forehead come to rest on her shoulder. And he wept. He didn’t know for how long. He figured the TARDIS kept track. He wouldn’t ask and he knew she wouldn’t tell unless he did. When he could finally speak again, he protested. “Eight point two-one billion Gallifreyans.”

“Don’t do this to yourself, please. Don’t do it to me.”

“Nine point seven billion Daleks. Five hundred thirty-seven thousand six hundred twenty-two TARDISes.”

Now she started to weep. When he broke off, she picked up the count. “Forty-eight planets between Skaro and Gallifrey. Three entire star systems. Parts of another five.”

She paused and he slowly lifted his head from her shoulder. He looked at her. Tears stained her cheeks, just as much as they covered his. She again reached out and cupped his face in both of her hands. “Doctor, I forgive you.”

She tilted his head towards her and kissed his forehead. He allowed the contact for a moment and then pulled away. “Who are you to forgive me, when you are just as guilty?”

She offered a tear-filled weak smile. “I am guilty of more than you could ever know, my Pilot. Is that not why you feel you can forgive others their transgressions? Because you have done worse?”

His features crumpled again. He gripped her top in his hands, as he had done with the grass. This time, he lent his forehead against her chest. He allowed himself a few more sobs. When he could speak again, his voice was soft and hoarse. “I can still hear them. Their screams.”

“I know. I can too.”

Something about her tone told the Doctor that she didn’t just mean that she could hear them through their connection. But that she heard them in her own right as well. He pulled away from her enough so that he could look into her eyes. They were blue – like her exterior. “Oh, my Old Girl, I am so…”

She placed a finger on his lips to silence him. “I knew what we were agreeing to when we used _The Moment_. Connected to the whole of Time and Space, how could I not?”

She had understood better than him. But what she had said meant… “You hear their screams as the present. I only hear them as echoes of the past.”

She nodded once. He went silent again.  Another ten minutes passed before he sniffled again and moved to stand up. “I suppose I should go. Clara must be worried.”

“She is safe in the Console Room. You needed time and space.”

He smiled weakly at her pun. He nodded. “Thank you. She’ll be furious, though.”

“Blame me. I can handle it.”

He shook his head in wonder. “I don’t deserve you.”

She smiled. “We have always deserved each other.”

He started to make his way towards the door and she started to fade. But her voice waffled through the air, “ _I love you_.”

The Doctor leaned his head against the door. “And I you.”

He opened the door and made his way back to the console room. He had been gone longer than he thought. Clara had moved past fear and worry and into anger. “Where the _hell_ have you been?”

He was still raw and sensing her surge of emotions, was doing nothing for him. He approached the console and gave it a gentle, loving stroke before he turned and answered her. “The TARDIS prevented me from getting back here.”

Not a complete lie. He just didn’t volunteer that he hadn’t been ready to come back until just now anyway.

“Oh well, that’s just great! I spent how many hours in that Zygon pod and then she traps me here in the console room!”

Clara walked over and hit the console as hard as she could.

“Oi! That’s no reason to hit her….”  Oh, that was a bit hypocritical of him. But the TARDIS was taking the blame for this and he was not about to see her go through that.  “…Besides, it’s hardly the same. Bigger space, for one.”

Clara arched an eyebrow at him. “You must be feeling better.”

“I wouldn’t say better. More in control of myself. It’ll be awhile before I feel better again.”

Clara nodded once. Then she came up to him and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that.”

He tensed the slightest bit. He still didn’t like the touchy-feely stuff and he had gotten enough from the TARDIS. But, he also knew Clara needed this.

“I did what I always do: what’s necessary.”

Clara released him from her hug.  “Still. There are two Osgoods again. Hopefully you won’t have to do that again for a long time.”

He nodded once and approached the console, pressing different buttons and turning dials so he could touch the TARDIS without looking conspicuous. He just needed to be touching her right now. It was a comfort.

Clara watched him when he didn’t respond. “We don’t have to go anywhere yet, Doctor. You’re probably exhausted.”

He offered a grim smile. “Oh, we’re not. You could probably do with a rest too. Mentally exhausting having your brain pumped for information.”  Not deadly for the short amount of time it happened, just exhausting. “I’m just going to put her on autopilot for awhile. Then, we’ll get some sleep and see how we’re feeling later.”

“Are you going to be able to sleep after that?”

He looked up at the time rotor and a small smile crossed his lips. “Yeah. I think I will.”

His Old Girl knew his nightmares and how to prevent them, if that was necessary.

“And you’ll sleep okay too.”

Clara’s features clouded with confusion. The Doctor’s smile got a little bigger. “She doesn’t hate you nearly as much as you think she does. She’ll help you sleep without nightmares.”

Clara nodded and made her way towards the corridor that led to the bedrooms. But the Doctor’s last words made her stop and turn around to stare at the console room. “What do you mean?”

The Doctor looked behind him, at the room, but spoke out loud. “She’s connected to the whole of Space and Time. She takes our nightmares and makes them her own. As long as it doesn’t interfere with health, she’ll not allow nightmares to disturb the sleep of anyone who travels within her walls.”

He turned back to Clara to see if she understood what he was saying. She tilted her head. “Like what you said about pain, yeah? ‘No one else will ever have to live like this. No one else will have to feel this pain.’?”

The Doctor offered a fond smile as he again looked up at the time rotor. “Where do you think I learned it from?”

With that, both the Doctor and Clara made their way to their bedrooms.


End file.
